


Mary's Song

by CrevanFox, LaterTuesday



Category: The Dresden Files
Genre: Angst, Character Study, Ficlet, Gen, POV Minor Character, Suicide
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2009-11-17
Updated: 2009-11-17
Packaged: 2017-10-03 05:20:38
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 446
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/14629
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/CrevanFox/pseuds/CrevanFox, https://archiveofourown.org/users/LaterTuesday/pseuds/LaterTuesday
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>character study of Ivy (the Archive)</p><p><i>O Golden child, the world will kill and eat you</i></p>
            </blockquote>





	Mary's Song

**Author's Note:**

> quote within text is from page 109 of Death Masks, and contains spoilers for it.
> 
> contains canon suicidal impulses, which are not acted on.
> 
> Title inspired by Sylvia Plath poem of the same title.
> 
> I'm just playing in Jim Butchers sandbox, all toys are his.

She loves the feel of crayons, warm paper in her small hands, the bright colours, the smell of wax, which is slightly different for each one.

 

She can name specifically every colour of every crayon every created.

 

She lays on her stomach, in the main living space of her current home. They move often, for security reasons. Kincaid is on a couch nearby, perusing a Soldiers of Fortune magazine. She's not sure if he's more interested in the women or the weaponry. She doesn't ask.

 

She can list, alphabetically, chronologically or by weight the specific ingredients in her Crayolas, even down to the chemical level.

 

She once told Harry Dresden that she wished to die, when they first meet  
_  
I frowned at her. "Promise?"  
"Promise." the child said solemnly.  
"Cross your heart and hope to die?"  
She drew an X over her puffy jacket with one index finger. "You don't know how much."  
_

She knows she will become a blank slate one day, drained of everything she is. She looks forward to it with dread and relief. She's already so tired.

 

She writes the document proving Kincaid is there as her proxy in sepia, with midnight blue twirls on the top and bottom. This document will allow Kincaid to set up the rules for a fight. It will consign two men to a duel to the death. She adds a sunny face in the corner, using burnt orange and canary yellow.

 

She won't be at the meeting. It will be past her bedtime. The vast majority of experts on child rearing agree that an early, and above all, a regular bedtime is key to a child's well being.

 

She is 7 years old.

 

She knows everything any human knows, and plenty more that has been forgotten.

 

She likes the cool logic of math, especially calculus. Formulas are unchanging, unfeeling. She doesn't feel the weight of centuries on her when she does math. It exists in a vacuum, related to the world, but not bound to it.

 

Kincaid turns the page, distracts her with the sound. She thinks about getting a cat, decides against it. Thinks about the rise and fall of civilizations, wonders how much longer this one will last.

 

She hums the tune to Dora the Explorer while putting the finishing touches on the document, stands, hands it to Kincaid with a little smile and goes to the kitchen to get herself some cookies and milk. It isn't the healthiest snack choice, but sometimes she just needs to be a kid.

 

_It is a heart, this holocaust I walk in  
O Golden Child, the world will kill and eat you_  
-Mary's Song, by S. Plath


End file.
